The fact that FDR went to great lengths to see Lucy in the final six weeks of his life suggests that he felt a strong need to be near her, though he characteristically never revealed his inner thoughts to anyone—save perhaps Lucy—about the nature of their relationship. The closest he came to admitting that there was a special bond between himself and Lucy was, again somewhat ironically, in a conversation he had with Daisy during that final trip to Warm Springs. Sitting alone together in a quiet moment, FDR admitted that Lucy “had no other person like him—a friend of such long standing to whom to go for the kind of sympathetic understanding which he always gives.” Having lost her husband just over a year earlier, Lucy faced an uncertain future—and also was “rather alone” now that her one daughter soon planned to marry. Whatever his reasons, on Wednesday, April 4, FDR decided that he would invite Lucy to join him in Warm Springs for the coming week.
FIRST, THOUGH, ANOTHER VISITOR ARRIVED. PRESIDENT SERGIO Osmena of the Philippines had been trying to arrange a meeting with FDR for quite some time to discuss a host of issues facing the islands now that their complete liberation was close at hand. Osmena was in Florida for medical reasons in late March, and so FDR decided to take advantage of his relatively close proximity to invite him to Warm Springs.7
Osmena arrived at the Little White House on April 4 at 11:00 a.m., precisely on time. Over the next three hours the two men reviewed the concerns that Osmena had listed in a memo that he had forwarded to FDR in advance. Osmena could also not help but note the contrast between the beauty and tranquility of the Georgia landscape and the wholesale destruction in Manila that he had witnessed in his homeland roughly a month earlier. Indeed, by the time the Philippine president met with FDR that morning, the Manila he loved, “once proud and beautiful,” had ceased to exist.8 As lunchtime approached, FDR suddenly called in a somewhat embarrassed Daisy, who always did her best to vanish whenever an official visitor arrived, to telephone “Hacky,” FDR’s telephone operator. FDR wanted Hassett and the three press pool reporters who had accompanied the presidential party to Warm Springs to be at the cottage at 2:00 for what would be FDR’s 998th press conference.
Just why the president should decide without any advance warning to his staff that he wanted to hold a press conference was a complete mystery, even to Hassett. But FDR’s motives soon became apparent, and indicated he had not lost his political acumen. What FDR recognized was that Osmena’s presence provided him with a perfect opportunity to highlight a number of major issues: that the war in the Pacific was far from over, that the United States needed to do all it could to help the people of the Philippines recover from the horrors of the conflict, and that he remained determined to see the Philippines achieve independence once the Japanese had been driven out of the islands.
During the press conference, FDR also delved into the tricky question of just how the United States might maintain a strong military presence in the Pacific without violating his preference for the establishment of trusteeships—as opposed to colonies—after the war. In answer to a question about whether the United States would take over the “Japanese mandates,” FDR alluded to the solution he had expressed some weeks earlier to his cabinet, when he told his colleagues that these territories would belong to the United Nations but would be defended by the United States on behalf of “world security.”
In addition, FDR did his best to dismiss the controversy over Stalin’s request for three votes in the General Assembly by offering a brief review of how the idea arose at Yalta; by insisting that Ukraine and Byelorussia had earned the right to a vote in the General Assembly given that millions of their citizens had been killed during the war; and by reminding the three reporters present that the General Assembly is an investigatory body only and it was “the little fellow” that needed the votes there, not the United States. In view of these considerations, he had decided to drop the idea that the United States would request the same number of seats as the USSR. “I told Stettinius to forget it,” he said, “as this business about votes in the General Assembly does not make a great deal of difference.”
As FDR closed the conference, he reminded the three reporters that he did not want this material released until he had returned to Washington, in perhaps seven to ten days’ time. Then, in classic FDR fashion, he uttered the last words he would ever issue to the press: “By the way, this is all off the record.”9
THE NEXT THREE DAYS TURNED OUT TO BE THE QUIETEST PERIOD FDR enjoyed during his stay in Warm Springs. The weather had turned “cold and raw,” keeping FDR indoors next to the fire, where he worked on his stamps and the “coffin” of books he had brought down.
Having settled into this quiet routine, and with encouraging news about the war in Europe arriving every day, FDR began to reflect once again about his future. In a private conversation he had with Daisy and Polly on the evening of April 5, he said he thought he should be able to retire by next year, “after he gets the peace organization started.” As Daisy recalled, this was not the first time he had mentioned the idea of retirement, which initially elicited the same emphatic response from both Daisy and Polly: “that he couldn’t do such a thing—[that] it had never been done [before].” But then Daisy said, “No one had ever before had a fourth term, either!”
Indeed, the more Daisy thought about it, the more she realized “that if he cannot physically carry on, he will have to resign. There is no sense in his killing himself by slow degrees… while not filling his job.” It would be far better “to hand it over, and avoid the period of his possible illness, when he wouldn’t be able to function.”
As she concluded, “From a personal point of view—he can then take care of himself and have perhaps years of useful, happy life, when his influence for good can continue—perhaps on the Peace Organization.”10
FDR brought up the subject again the next night, as he lay in bed smoking a cigarette, before finishing the gruel that Daisy and Polly had brought him. He spoke “seriously about the San Francisco Conference, and his part in World Peace,” and reiterated the idea that “he can probably resign sometime next year, when the peace organization—the United Nations—is well started.”11
By this point, FDR had been at Warm Springs for a full week, and thanks to his dedicated staff’s efforts, his well-being seemed to have improved day by day. The two Daisys and Dr. Bruenn noticed that FDR’s appetite was better. He seemed to enjoy his meals and occasionally even asked for second helpings. His face also seemed fuller and had a better color, and although he had not been weighed, Dr. Bruenn thought he may have put on a few pounds.12 His blood pressure, however, still varied widely, from a range of 170/88 to 240/130—readings that led to continued efforts to reduce the stress on the president as much as possible.
It couldn’t have hurt that Churchill, realizing he was not going to convince FDR to endorse his call for the Western Allies to take Berlin, finally conceded defeat in a brief note on April 6. Churchill admitted that he still “thought it was a pity” that Eisenhower had sent his plans to Stalin without anything being said to the British Chiefs, but the prime minister also acknowledged that “the changes in the main plan have turned out to be very much less than we first supposed.” Given all of this, Churchill said that he now regarded “the matter as closed,” and “to prove my sincerity,” he went on, “I will use one of my very few Latin quotations, ‘Anmantium irae amoris integration est,’” which the State Department translated in a handwritten note at the bottom of the cable as “Lovers’ quarrels always go with true love.”13
On the home front, however, the situation was not as promising. Earlier in the week, the US Senate had handed FDR one of the most stinging defeats of his career when it rejected his manpower legislation by a vote of 46 to 29. Since FDR had made numerous appeals on behalf of the act, the Washington Post argued that the defeat “portended something more than the death of a bill and a major war policy.” After all, the demise of the current legislation followed a “flat refusal to consider anything a
pproaching national service, weeks of bickering over the confirmation of Henry Wallace, [and] a deliberate thumbs down on another Roosevelt nominee—Aubrey Williams.” Overall, this “legislative trend,” unless dramatically reversed, could mean that “Franklin Roosevelt is losing control of his Congress, much as Woodrow Wilson lost it with the approach of victory.”14 Eleanor was also having difficulties with the press, as a result of a statement she purportedly made indicating that “she saw no reason why the United States should be expected to feed Europe” when there were other nations “that can and should help”—a remark she vehemently denied ever having uttered. Exasperated after a week of public functions, she had escaped to Hyde Park for the weekend of April 7–8. After retiring early on Saturday night, she was perhaps somewhat surprised when she was aroused by a call from FDR.
Apologizing for being “half asleep,” Eleanor made no mention of her spat with the press. Instead, the two of them spoke of more routine matters, including the unpacking of new china and other items at “the big house,” an illness Johnny had come down with, and FDR’s time in Warm Springs. It was a relatively short call, but Eleanor found herself encouraged by her husband’s demeanor. He seemed much better than during the first conversation they’d had at the start of his visit, when FDR sounded so weary she found herself praying that “he may be able to carry on till we have peace.”15
As she wrote in a letter to FDR the next day, the last she ever sent him, she was pleased at his excitement over the coming trip to the United Nations conference. “Give my love to Laura and Margaret,” she wrote. “I’m glad they’ll be along on the trip to San Francisco. Much love to you, dear. I’m so glad you are going. You sounded cheerful for the first time last night & I hope you will weigh 170 lbs. when you return.”16
Unbeknownst to Eleanor, FDR had placed another call that Saturday evening, this one to Lucy Rutherfurd, most likely to confirm the plans for her expected arrival on Monday. Lucy had already worked out the details of her visit with Grace Tully, to whom she had written on April 5.17 Lucy planned to bring the Ukrainian-born artist Madame Elizabeth Shoumatoff with her so that her friend, unsatisfied with an earlier work she had completed of FDR, could use the occasion to paint a second portrait of the president. As always, Lucy very much appreciated Grace’s help in making the arrangements for her visit. But the manner in which she closed her letter clearly indicates that she, too, was well aware of the precariousness of FDR’s health. “With many thanks again,” she wrote to Grace, “for being so very understanding and thoughtful. If you should change your mind & think it would be better for me not to come—call me up. I really am terribly worried—as I imagine you all are.”18
Lucy was not alone in thinking her visit might add to the strain that FDR was under. Though always happy to see Lucy, Daisy recognized that it was “another interruption in the routine we are trying to keep.” Still, Daisy found herself quite excited by the prospect of Lucy’s arrival, and she and Polly spent much of Sunday gathering flowers and fixing up the guesthouse where Lucy would stay, so that things would look attractive when she arrived.19
MONDAY MORNINGS WERE ALWAYS SOMEWHAT SPECIAL TO WILLIAM Hassett. Owing to the fact that there was no overnight pouch on this one day of the week, Mondays, as Daisy put it, were “as near to a ‘do not work Sunday’ as F ever gets to.”20 Blissfully devoid of any pressing matters, Hassett took advantage of this relatively quiet moment to talk to “the boss” about his collection of books, which, like stamp collecting, was one of FDR’s lifelong passions. As it turns out, Hassett was also a bibliophile, and in addition to his duties as Secretary to the President, Hassett became something of a purveyor for the president’s book collection, keeping an eye out for rare or interesting volumes that might come on the market. A somewhat discerning collector, FDR was not always interested in the works Hassett discovered, as was the case when Hassett asked FDR that morning if he might want to purchase a copy of Amasa Delano’s Voyages and Travels, which the president declined.21
“Amasa was one of the ‘Maine Delano’s,’ a distant cousin of my grandfather,” FDR explained, “but grandpa had never met him,” so FDR decided against the purchase. Nor was he interested in purchasing a copy of Edward Hyde’s The History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in England, another rare book that came up during their stay in Warm Springs, even though Hyde Park was named after the author. “Feeling the pinch of poverty,” FDR insisted he could not afford the $17.50 purchase price. Still, by the time he died, FDR’s book collection numbered over 22,000 volumes—a collection of which he was enormously proud and one of the reasons he insisted on building the nation’s first “Presidential Library.”22
FDR spent the remainder of the afternoon resting in the warm sun, which had come back out from behind the clouds, before he and Daisy headed off for a drive in the direction of Macon, Georgia, in the hope that they might run into Lucy and Madame Shoumatoff as the two women made their way in the opposite direction. After many fruitless miles of driving, the two parties eventually managed to meet up not far from Warm Springs. Given her artist’s eye, Madame Shoumatoff could not help but notice the expression of joy on FDR’s face upon seeing Lucy. But she also could not fail to notice the striking change in his appearance since the last time she painted him in 1943. Regarding him carefully, she reflected on a question that had now become commonplace: “How can I paint such a sick man? His face was gray and he looked to me much like President Wilson in his last years.”23
Tuesday, April 10, proved another relatively restful day. FDR accepted an invitation to attend a barbeque on Thursday organized by Frank Allcorn, the mayor of Warm Springs, and Ruth Stevens, the manager of the Warm Springs Hotel. As in Hyde Park, FDR enjoyed getting to know his “neighbors,” and was particularly fond of Mrs. Stevens. It was “Ruthie,” reputed to be something of a “character,” who had decided it would be a good idea to host a barbeque for the president—in part because, as she had announced a few nights earlier at her hotel, “she had just bought a goddamned pig that weighed three hundred pounds!”24
At noon, FDR took a few moments to sit for Madame Shoumatoff and Mr. Robbins, the photographer she had brought along as an assistant. The rest of the afternoon proceeded at a languorous pace. Daisy and Polly took a walk with the dogs, and after Madame Shoumatoff and Mr. Robbins had worked sketching and photographing FDR for an hour or so, they all took a break for lunch, joined by Leighton McCarthy, the former Canadian ambassador to Washington who was also one of FDR’s oldest friends. Surrounded as he was by such convivial company, FDR seemed quite happy and relaxed. He spoke of his trip to the Crimea, said the war in Europe “might end at any time,” and, smiling at Ambassador McCarthy (perhaps knowingly, as Canada was deeply involved in the Manhattan Project), surprised his guests when he predicted that once Germany was defeated, “Japan will collapse almost immediately.”25
FDR brought the day to a close by taking a drive alone with Lucy through the Georgia woods to Dowdell’s Knob, a rocky outcrop at the crest of Pine Mountain that stood roughly 1,400 feet above the low-lying country that lay between the Chattouchee and Flint Rivers far below. Of all the locations in Georgia, this place unquestionably held the greatest meaning for FDR. It was to this spot, during the difficult early years of his “recovery” from the disease that had robbed him of his ability to walk, that he would often venture, to sit alone, lost in thought, as he watched the sun set slowly in the west.26
THE RESPITE FROM THE WAR THAT FDR SEEMED TO ENJOY OVER THE past few days could not last, of course, and it was not long before a number of key issues crowded in around him at Warm Springs. Of these, the most serious was the seemingly never-ending problem of Poland. It had now been more than eight weeks since he and Churchill had departed the Crimea in such high spirits. Since then, however, there had been virtually no progress on the establishment of the expanded regime called for by the Yalta accords. The principal obstacle remained the Soviet insistence that the existing members of the Lublin/Warsaw government h
ad the right to veto any of the proposed candidates put forward by London or Washington—the result of which was to bring the whole process of attempting to set up a new interim government to a crashing halt. Churchill and FDR had tried to rectify this situation first by issuing a joint démarche that challenged the Soviet interpretation of the Yalta understandings on March 19, followed roughly ten days later by a second message sent by FDR that in essence called Stalin’s bluff by insisting that “any solution that would result in the continuance of the present Warsaw regime would be unacceptable, and would cause the people of the United States to regard the Yalta agreement as having failed.”27
Stalin’s negative reply, which FDR did not receive until April 10, did nothing to alleviate the situation. On the contrary, as Stalin admitted frankly, “matters on the Polish question had… reached a dead end.” The most Stalin could offer was to use what “influence” he had with the Polish Provisional Government to convince it to withdraw its objection to Stanislaw Mikolajczyk’s taking part in the deliberations in Moscow, so long as Mikolajczyk issued a public statement accepting the Yalta decisions and declaring his desire for friendly relations with the Soviet Union. Given that Lublin Poles were in fact controlled by Moscow, Stalin’s offer of help was viewed with a good deal of skepticism in London and Washington. Nevertheless, Churchill saw a possible opening in Stalin’s démarche, which, “if seriously intended,” he wrote to FDR on Wednesday, April 11, “could be important.”28
The Last 100 Days Page 31